“Run!” Asim grabbed her hand and pushed two luggage carts backward, scattering suitcases across the floor. He pulled her quickly toward the emergency exit of the waiting lounge.

Tang Mi barely had time to process what was happening; her legs instinctively carried her forward, and everything around her blurred and fell away. Her hearing, however, seemed sharper than ever, with shouts, curses, things falling, and men yelling echoing all around her, forming a chaotic symphony matching her rhythm of escape.

The roar of an airplane taking off sounded again, followed by two gunshots. Asim’s body suddenly went limp, and he collapsed to the ground.

In that instant, all the noise fell silent, as if an invisible hand had gripped the trembling throat of the world.

Tang Mi stared in horror at Asim lying on the ground, a dark red stain blossoming on his back, soaking through his white uniform. His pilot’s hat had rolled onto the floor, spinning a few times before coming to rest at her feet.

“Don’t move! One more step and I’ll shoot!” a cold, metallic object pressed firmly against the back of her head.

Amid the chaos, a sweet, automated female voice came over the loudspeaker: “Flight SHwJ01 to Ukraine is now departing. Passengers, please proceed quickly to Gate M008.”

Meanwhile, inside Emir’s study, Arthur pried open the steel plate of the safe with a laser cutter, quickly locating the weapons contract between Emir and Country A among a stack of folders. He unzipped the front of his black jumpsuit, stowed the contract in a chest pocket, and glanced at his watch, which glowed faintly with “11:08:00.”

“Boss, the guards are in the elevator and should arrive on the lower level in about 20 seconds,” Simon’s slightly anxious voice crackled through the earpiece.

“Relax, I’ve got the contract,” Arthur responded calmly, then looked over at JR.

While Arthur was busy with the safe, JR had already created a small hole in the study’s ceiling vent, just large enough for a person to enter and exit.

Seeing that Arthur had secured the contract, JR took out two small timed explosives from his pocket, set them to go off in 20 seconds, and, with a wicked grin, opened the study door, tossed the explosives out, then quickly shut and locked the door.

As the explosive blasts erupted outside, Arthur and JR were already climbing into the ventilation shaft, moving swiftly toward the exit that led to the ground.

“That oughta send those bastards flying!” JR’s face twisted with a gleeful, ruthless smile as his muscular body maneuvered with ease through the narrow vent, like a powerful bulldog.

Twenty minutes later, Arthur and JR had escaped to a secluded grove outside the palace, where Yise and Simon were already waiting in a helicopter.

Explosions continued to echo from the palace, where bombs they’d previously planted were now detonating.

“Boss, we pulled this one off smooth, didn’t we?” Simon laughed, chewing gum as he fist-bumped JR in celebration.

Arthur didn’t respond, only looking down at the receding ground. An orange flame was rising from the palace, rapidly blossoming like fireworks on a national holiday—brilliant and intense. Amidst the inferno, a pure white figure burst forth, slicing through the flames like a shining blade, its sleek body exuding the elegance and composure of a lion, even in the midst of escape.

It was Emma, seizing the chaos of the explosion to break free from its confinement, running with liberated strides toward the distant plains, back to the home that truly belonged to it.

‘I kept my promise to you. But now that you’ve escaped from me, what were you thinking?’ Arthur watched Emma’s figure grow smaller as it ran further away, feeling none of the usual relief he felt after completing a mission.

The fiery glow lit his face, yet reflected no warmth, as if something deep within his dark eyes was peeling away.

In the end, he had finally let go, allowing Tang Mi to return to where she belonged—the real world, bathed in sunlight, far from his own realm of schemes, bloodshed, and shadows.

That night, as he looked at her face, exhausted and finally asleep…

Arthur stood up and left, gently closing the door behind him, feeling the lingering chill on his fingertips as he let go.

Suddenly, a beeping electronic sound interrupted his thoughts. Arthur glanced down at his watch, where the tracker was continuously alarming, a green dot moving closer to a specific coordinate on the map.

“Boss, didn’t Ann already leave?”

“Then why does the GPS show that she’s in Emir’s palace?!” Simon looked at his computer in shock.

How could this be? Wasn’t she supposed to be on a plane to Ukraine with Asim? Why did she return to the palace? Could something have gone wrong?

A drop of cold sweat trickled down Arthur’s forehead, dampening his furrowed brow.

“Yise, lower the altitude—I need to go down,” Arthur suddenly ordered Yise, who was piloting the aircraft.

“Are you insane? We just stole the contract, and now Emir’s turning the palace upside down looking for us. And you’re saying you want to go down?” Yise shouted back, frowning.

“Listen, you both need to get back to MI6 with the contract as soon as possible. I’m going down to rescue her. I’ll contact you in three days,” Arthur interrupted quickly, pulling the contract from his chest and thrusting it into Simon’s hands. He then looked at Yise and commanded firmly, “Descend!”

“No! Going down now is suicide!” Yise clenched his jaw, his beard trembling with anger, but he continued to ascend.

“Yise, I am the commanding officer on this mission! When carrying out a mission, you must obey your superior’s orders—that’s what you taught me!” Arthur fixed his gaze on Yise’s reflection in the windshield, his voice resolute.

Yise sighed deeply, then abruptly pushed down on the control stick, and the aircraft began to descend.

As Arthur leaped from the cabin, Yise’s shout cut through the roar of the propellers: “That woman is a curse—one day she’ll be the death of you!”

Emir’s palace was already in chaos, filled with the noise of shouting voices and barking guard dogs, punctuated by occasional explosions.

Soldiers holding guns were frantically running through the garden, panting heavily, like the search dogs they led. They scoured every room and corner of the palace, even turning the trash rooms upside down, yet still saw no sign of their target.

In contrast, Emir, sitting in his room, appeared much calmer.

He swirled the wine in his glass, the crimson liquid casting a scarlet glow under the lights, which gave his pallid skin a sickly, vivid hue. His eyes remained calm, but Tang Mi, sitting across from him, could hear the sound of his teeth grinding together.

“Miss Tang Mi, don’t you want to explain why you suddenly left in the middle of the night?”

“No, I don’t,” Tang Mi shook her head forcefully, feeling a lightness in her body. Everything she saw appeared unfocused, shifting with strange halos and double images, as though a clumsy cameraman kept shaking the lens.

She knew this was due to the thiopental sodium they’d injected her with—a “truth serum.” It’s a barbiturate that affects receptors in the brain and spinal cord, inducing strong sedative and anesthetic effects. People under its influence tend to answer questions unconsciously, making even small lies difficult to maintain.

“Earlier this evening, Anderson told me that your real name isn’t Ann but Tang Mi, and that you’re the staff photographer for Explorer magazine. And you’re not Arthur’s fiancée, though you did meet on the plains. But what I’m more interested in is why my study was broken an hour ago, and what this has to do with you and Arthur!” Emir set down his glass heavily, his icy gaze coiling around her like a python, silently strangling her inch by inch.

“It was Arthur and his team,” Tang Mi responded involuntarily, her sense of Emir’s voice amplified a hundredfold, buzzing in her ears. Her mind, guided by the strange tone answering his questions, felt split from her body, as if she were dreaming, entirely detached from her consciousness.

“Who exactly are you people? Who do you work for? Where is Arthur?” Emir continued to question.

“I don’t know where he is. I’m a photographer and an orphan…who would I work for?” Tang Mi felt her eyelids grow heavier, just wanting to fall asleep.

“Who does Arthur work for?” Emir’s voice broke through her drowsiness.

“Country H, MI6.” Tang Mi realized she was speaking incoherently, but she couldn’t control her tongue.

With a sharp crack, Emir threw his wine glass at her. The glass struck her forehead hard, then fell to the ground, the red wine splashing across her face.

She snapped her head up, feeling something hot mingled with the cold wine trickling down from her forehead, blurring her vision. The searing pain chased away any trace of drowsiness.

“You bitch! I should kill you!” Emir stood up, took a few steps forward, and grabbed a handful of Tang Mi’s hair, forcing her to lift her face to meet his gaze. He knew full well what would happen if the weapons contract fell into Country H’s hands. His support for the rebels would be exposed, the president would stop at nothing to eliminate him, and Country A would lose its geothermal resource rights. He’d be hunted by both Country Z’s government forces and by Country A.

As he thought of this, Emir’s hand tightened around Tang Mi’s neck, squeezing hard.

All traces of his former composure were gone, replaced by a rage-twisted, beast-like ferocity that left Tang Mi feeling both horrified and nauseous.